


When you came back

by kakapolover



Category: Bodyguard (TV 2018)
Genre: Depression, F/M, Forgiveness, Loss, Love, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reconciliation, Slow Burn, reconnecting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:47:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23559373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kakapolover/pseuds/kakapolover
Summary: This follows on from the end of episode 6 when Vicky gets into the car with David and the children. While I liked the chemistry between David and Julia, I always thought that Vicky and David deserved another chance.
Relationships: David Budd & Vicky Budd
Comments: 18
Kudos: 92





	1. Chapter 1

Vicky Budd smiled and raised her hand in a small wave as Charlie called out from the top of a climbing frame.  
“I’m the king of the castle!”  
His body stood out against the bright sunlight of the afternoon, a silhouette balancing on a metal structure that looked far too high off the ground for a public playground.  
She opened her mouth to call across the space between the park bench and her boy, to remind him to be careful. But she stopped short, remembering the gentle, but serious words of the school psychologist who had spoken to her the other day.  
“Don’t transfer your own anxieties onto your children. The way you handle yourself now, the way you talk to them about their dad and what’s happened to him, will be a blueprint for them for their future.”  
Charlie had come down from the climbing frame and was now racing around the lawns in silly circles, calling for his sister to join him.  
Vicky inhaled the chilly spring air and closed her eyes. There was a hint of warmth in the afternoon sun and she was sure she could smell the scent of spring flowers in the air, even though she couldn’t see any. Shrieks of laughter wafted over from her children and she thought that she hadn’t felt as relaxed as this for months, if not years.  
She opened her eyes a fraction to glance over to David. He sat very still, his eyes fixed on the children in front of them.  
“This is nice,” he said. Vicky blinked. The day was bright and crisp and full of promises. The children were now spinning in circles and wandering off into the lawn like spinning tops, dropping to the ground in bounds of laughter as their dizziness took over their motions.  
“It’s lovely, indeed,” she finally said.  
If only she could hold on to this moment of serenity. If only she could hold on to her own feeling of peace instead of always rushing, always worrying.  
There was upheaval ahead of her and the children: she dreaded the shift back to their home, even though it would be a huge relief. Their belongings were strewn all around the safe house; the place was a mess and in need of a good clean. Settling Charlie into his new school would take up a lot of her energy and time, neither of which she had any. And arranging school drop offs and pickups with Dave was a nightmare because she never knew if and when he could do it. There was also the underlying suspicion that he might not be reliable and would forget. There was work, of course, with its constant pressures of saving money while still providing the best care she could to her patients, worries about changing shifts and the petty arguments with her co-workers and her boss.  
The spiral of thoughts that took over her life most of the time now was back. The constant worry about her children, about not being a good enough mother, about feeling like a mediocre nurse. There was a new man in her life, too, and she wasn’t quite sure what to make of their relationship. And then there was David.  
Charlie and Ella were now balancing on the wooden boxing that marked the perimeter of the playground. She envied them for their worry-free giggles and their silliness.  
David. She was so used to worrying about his safety that she couldn’t stop, even now when he was in no danger anymore. Her brain hadn’t adjusted to the new normal which was safe and free of threats. He was on stress leave from his job and the most dangerous thing in his life at present was driving the few short kilometres between his flat and the safe house.  
“Are you alright, love?” His voice was closer than she’d expected. She turned her head to see him leaning towards her, his forehead in a frown.  
His late night phone calls had stopped, the endless questions about her, the constant wanting to have a chat even though they had nothing to chat about but to argue about his drinking and his refusal to get help.  
Today, for the first time since their breakup, she was not annoyed by his question, but grateful. She took a deep breath.  
“Yes, I’m all good,” she said, desperate not to spoil the perfect afternoon. David glanced over long enough for her to see the dark shadows under his eyes, the fine line of the scar above his left eye, the utter exhaustion in his look. She averted her eyes, resisting the urge to ask if he still wasn’t sleeping.  
“Mummy, I’m hungry.” Ella sneaked up from behind them and poked her head between Vicky and David. Her hands reached for both of their faces, one to the left, one to the right of her, connecting them all together.  
“Me too,” Charlie piped up, flinging himself onto David’s lap without warning. Vicky saw the flinch in his eyes, his body tense.  
“Careful, Charlie-bear. Daddy’s still a bit sore, remember?” she said. But David ignored her comment and pulled Charlie up so he sat right on his lap.  
“We’d better get something to eat, then,” he said. “What do you think, Ella?”  
Ella nodded vigorously between them, her hands still pressed against their cheeks. They sat like that for a moment, a family together, in peace. Vicky wished that someone would take a photograph of them to prove that they were indeed a family still. And to hold onto something in the future when she and David would be fighting again.  
The children became restless, shifted and stood in front of them, eager to leave. “We’ll get something on the way to my flat. Do you want to join us?”  
She’d forgotten that this was his weekend with the children and that they weren’t doing what normal families would do. She’d actually forgotten!  
“Um, thanks, but no. If you don’t mind dropping me off on the way.” She didn’t meet his eyes when she spoke.  
“Why can’t you join us, Mummy?” Charlie asked, always the one to press for answers.  
She hesitated. “I’ve got other plans.” She didn’t actually have any plans because she hadn't expected Dave to take the kids in the first place. But this would be an opportunity to get in touch with her new man and have a potentially uncomfortable discussion with him.  
“What plans, Mummy?” Ella asked.  
Charlie was tugging on David’s arm to get moving. “Come on, Daddy, I’m starving.” But David’s eyes were on Vicky, waiting for her to answer their daughter’s question.  
The sun had disappeared behind a tree at the edge of the park. Vicky wrapped herself up in her coat, pulling up the collar. “I’m catching up with a friend,” she said, hoping that Ella would ask no further.  
She got up from the bench and took Ella’s hand. “You’re freezing. Let’s get you in the car.”  
On the drive back to the safe house, she tuned out the children’s chatter and stared out of the window. The day now felt cold and grey, and an unexpected feeling of loss pushed down on her chest.  
When David pulled up in front of the house, it took all of her willpower to get out of the car. She opened the back door to kiss her children goodbye, then closed it shut. With a deep breath, she leaned one hand onto the car’s roof for support, then bent down so she could see David.  
“Thanks for the afternoon. And the lift home.” Her eyes didn’t want to leave his.  
“Bye, love,” David said. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”  
And before she could say anything else, he’d driven off.

***

The children were in their beds in the spare room. It had taken three stories to settle and reassure them that everything was fine. David made himself a cup of tea, reached for his phone and sat down on the sofa.  
There wasn’t anything to do as the long hours of the night stretched out in front of him. He was used to it, of course, but tonight he couldn’t leave his flat in the early hours of the morning to escape the depressing grey walls tainted with vivid memories. Tonight he’d have to stay put and spend every minute of every hour within those walls while his children were sleeping.  
He inhaled deeply to quell his increasing restlessness. His therapist had given him breathing exercises, but he wasn’t good at doing them on his own. It was the feeling of being trapped, of not seeing what was coming for him, that caused his anxiety.  
The dark always made it worse. On his therapist’s suggestion he got into the habit of turning on most of the lights in his flat in the evening. Even when he went to bed, he kept a nightlight on. It didn’t improve his insomnia, but at least when he woke up after a couple of hours of sleep, there was a light that gave him a small sense of security.  
He turned on the TV and flicked through the channels in the hope of finding something to distract him. As usual, he skipped the news channels. He couldn’t stand the rhetoric of politics any longer. There was always the chance that he’d stumble upon a clip featuring Julia, too. Not that he couldn’t stand to look at her. No, he’d spent hours and hours online searching for a photo of her that showed her in a soft light. But all he could ever find was the Home Secretary, not Julia. He deeply regretted that he’d never taken a photo of her, and now had to rely on his own memory.  
“Dad?”  
A small voice pulled him out of his thoughts. His son stood on the stairs with a teddy under his arm, rubbing his eyes.  
“I can’t sleep.”  
He beckoned for Charlie to come down and pulled him onto his lap. “What’s up, Big Man?”  
Charlie hesitated before speaking.  
“I’m scared.”  
Me too, David thought. Not in the way you are, but I’m scared too. And I wish I had someone to hold me and tell me that everything was going to be alright.  
“It’s been a while since you’ve stayed here, aye?” he said. “You know there’s nothing to be scared of, don’t you?”  
Charlie tucked his head under his dad’s chin and nodded.  
“I miss Mummy,” he whispered. David tightened his arms around the boy.  
“Aye, of course you do. We haven’t spent much time with each other lately. And now you’re in this flat with all these unfamiliar noises.”  
The boy started to cry. “I want Mummy.” David rocked him, swallowing hard.  
“I know. But Mummy is catching up with a friend tonight, remember?”  
Charlie continued as if he hadn’t heard.  
“I want Mummy.” His sobs became louder and his small body shook between David’s arms. He blinked away tears of his own and tried to swallow the hard lump that had lodged itself in his throat. Don’t cry. Not now. Not with the boy needing your reassurance. But his eyes welled up in tears as he raised his hand to his lips, stifling a sob.  
“What’s going on?” Ella appeared in front of them with tousled hair and blinking eyes.  
“Charlie and I are having a wee cry, aren’t we, Charlie-bear?” David said quickly, trying to mask his sadness. “I say, let's make ourselves a hot chocolate and have some biscuits for supper. How does that sound?”  
At the word biscuits, Charlie perked up.  
“For real?”  
David nudged the boy off his lap, stroked Ella’s hair and asked, “Did we wake you up?”  
She shook her head. “I’ve been trying to fall asleep all this time, but I couldn't.”  
David reached for both of their hands and took them to the kitchen. “Charlie, you find the biscuits. Ella, you fetch the milk from the fridge.”  
By the time they’d had supper, brushed their teeth for the second time that night and were ready for bed once again, it was almost midnight.  
“Can we sleep with you, Daddy?” Ella asked as they were trudging up the stairs.  
“What, in my bed?”  
She looked at him as if he were a bit thick. “We’re hardly all going to fit onto a single bed, are we?”  
He wasn’t sure if this was a good idea. What if he woke up from a nightmare at three o’clock in the morning and scared them?  
“Only if I can sleep in the middle. And you have to share your teddies,” he said, deciding that he had no other idea how to settle his children.  
“Oh Daddy, really?” Charlie’s face was bright with excitement.  
“Yes, but remember it’s late, so we will be sleeping. No pillow fights or wrestling matches.”  
While the children went to fetch their teddies, pillows and duvets, David changed into his sleeping gear: a pair of cotton pyjama shorts and a t-shirt. When the children came into his bedroom, he was already in bed.  
Charlie snuggled up to him on his right while Ella was tiptoeing around the room.  
“What are you doing, darling?” David asked.  
“I’m turning off the lights.”  
“Not this one,” he said, pointing at the small light on the bedside table.  
“Why not?” Ella asked as she crawled over the top of him.  
“I have scary dreams sometimes,” he said. “And having a light helps me if I wake up at night.” He held his breath, expecting more questions, maybe even a chuckle from Charlie.  
“That makes sense,” the boy said as if it were the most natural thing in the world for a grown man to need a nightlight.  
“Good night, Daddy,” his daughter whispered as he felt one of her hands slide into his.  
“Good night, darling. Sleep tight.” When he turned to Charlie, the boy had already fallen asleep. He stroked his hair and relaxed into the bed.  
In that moment, he felt more secure than he had for years. He might not sleep, but lie awake all night with the warmth from his children seeping into his body and their regular breaths more comforting than a thousand breathing exercises.  
Maybe, just maybe, things would get better. In time.


	2. Chapter 2

“Mummy, Mummy, we got to sleep with Dad!”  
Charlie flung himself into Vicky’s arms at the door, waited for a moment, then pushed past her to get inside the house. Ella came from behind. “That was the best Sunday ever,” she said.  
Vicky hugged her daughter, then spotted David on the doorstep with a smile she hadn’t seen on him for a long time.  
“Come in.”  
“Had a good night, love?” he asked as he moved past her. She wasn’t sure if this was a dig at her mysterious night out with a ‘friend’ or just a friendly greeting.  
“Yes, thanks. It was nice,” she said and shut the door. “So, you had a good night, too?”  
David nodded and looked back at her. “The children were a little homesick, though.”  
“Homesick?” She didn’t know what he meant.  
“They missed you.”  
“Oh.” She looked at him. Did you miss me? He had shaved and his hair was still a little damp from a shower, she presumed.  
“We had a late supper. That helped them settle.” He cast a glance towards the end of the hall where the stairs to the first floor were. “They might need an early night tonight.”  
Vicky kept her eyes on him, not wanting to let go of this new version of David, a version that was relaxed and present.  
“Do you want a drink?” she asked, wanting to extend the time in his company.  
“No, thanks,” he said. “I better leave you to it.”  
“Sure.”  
He went upstairs to say goodbye to the children, then came back down. She called him back when he was nearly at the door.  
“David?”  
“Yes?”  
She hesitated for a moment, then decided she had to ask what was on the tip of her tongue.  
“Did the children really sleep with you?”  
He looked back at her, the easy smile from before gone.  
“Aye.”  
She averted her eyes, not wanting to look into his eyes when she carried on. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but do you think that was a good idea?”  
His face dropped. Immediately, she wanted to take her words back and say instead how proud she was of him. But it was too late now.  
“Why not?”  
“I just thought in case you’re still having... nightmares?”  
He stared at her.  
“And?”  
“You might scare them when you wake up. Didn’t you used to...I mean, I thought you can get quite agitated…”  
He deflated in front of her as if she’d opened a valve, and slumped against the wall.  
“You don’t think I’m safe to be around them?” His eyes had lost the shiny brightness that had only just returned.  
“No, no,” she quickly dismissed him. “That’s not what I meant, David.”  
“Then what did you mean?” He sounded more helpless than irritated, desperate to understand.  
Vicky lifted her hand in a flick. “Forget it. It was a stupid thing to say. It came out the wrong way.”  
His eyes were fixed on her now, resigned. She cursed herself for not keeping her mouth shut.  
“You’re right though, aren’t you? I can’t be trusted with them. I can’t be trusted with anyone.”  
He turned to open the door.  
“Dave, that’s not what I meant!” she called, but he was already outside.  
Shit. Shit. Shit.  
“David!” Short of running after him, there was nothing she could do. She looked at his back disappearing in the distance and sighed. Why hadn’t she just kept her mouth shut?  
Back inside, the children were busy in their rooms upstairs. “Did you have a good time?” she asked Ella who was stretched out on the floor, drawing a picture on a large sketching pad.  
“Yes.”  
“And you got to sleep in Daddy’s bed? What a treat!” She made her voice sound light, but deep down she knew she was fishing for a comment, anything, to confirm that David wasn’t fit to have his children sleeping with him.  
“We did. Daddy didn't even have a bad dream.”  
“Does he have bad dreams?” Vicky asked, hating herself for the way she was interrogating her own child.  
“Sometimes. He keeps a light on at night now. That helps him.”  
Ella dismissed her with a look that said she wanted to be left alone now.  
“I’m glad to hear that,” Vicky said, relieved and ashamed at the same time.  
Later, when the children were in bed, she picked up the phone to ring David.  
“I’m sorry,” she said as soon as she heard his voice, fearful that he might hang up on her. “It was a stupid thing to say. I shouldn’t have said it.”  
She could hear him breathing at the other end of the line.  
“David? Say something, please.” Maybe he was so angry with her that he couldn’t speak right now. “I’m sorry I doubted you.”  
She heard a sniff.  
“I need you to be my gauge, Vic.” She pictured him sitting in his drab flat, his eyes raised to the ceiling, blinking. “I don’t trust myself anymore. But you do. And when I have doubts, I tell myself Vic trusts me. Vic has faith in me. Vic says I’m a good father.”  
She switched her phone over into the other hand, realising she had been gripping so hard her muscles were all tense.  
“If you doubt me as well, there’s nothing left of me. I need you to believe in me...until…” He was searching for the right words. “Until I can believe in myself again.”  
Vicky swallowed hard.  
“I trust you, David. I trust you completely.”  
He made a small noise, and she knew to wait and give him time.  
“Are you alright?” she asked.  
He sniffed again. “Yeah, alright, thanks.”  
The silence stretched between them. She was about to ring off when he spoke.  
“Did you see your new man last night?”  
She hesitated. How much should she tell him? Did it matter?  
“Yes. I told him that it was over between us.”  
“Did you now?” David’s voice sounded like it had risen by an octave. Clearly he hadn’t expected this from her. “Why?”  
There were so many factors that had led to this decision. The fact that she didn’t love him was probably the most significant. Their relationship had added a layer of complication to her life that she didn’t need. She felt guilty at farming out the kids to spend time with him. And the ordeal when David was kidnapped and put in a suicide bomber’s vest had left her exhausted.  
“I don’t love him,” she said in the end, deciding that this was the most honest answer.  
David acknowledged her words with a short ‘hm’, then didn’t say anything else. She wanted to know how he felt about her not dating anymore, then reminded herself that he’d had an affair with Julia Montague, so why would he care?  
“Anyway,” she said, “it’s late and I just wanted to say how sorry I am and...”  
“Vic?” he interrupted.  
“Yes?”  
There was a long pause. Don’t push him. Give him time.  
“I was wondering if you’d come along to one of my sessions. You know, my counselling sessions.”  
This came out of the blue. He’d never once talked about his sessions apart from saying that he was getting help and that he was feeling better. When she didn’t reply immediately, he carried on.  
“My counsellor said it would be beneficial if you could come along sometime. She would like to talk to the both of us.”  
She didn’t need to think about this twice.  
“Of course. Let me know when, and I’ll be there.”  
Later, as she lay in bed, she wondered how he’d cope with having her there. He’d always been so dismissive about his mental health issues that she found it hard to imagine he would talk about it with her present.  
But then David Budd had surprised her with a few changes lately. She would just have to wait and see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed reading this.  
> I'm trying to learn as much as possible about PTSD and counselling for it in order to write as authentically as possible. Forgive me if I get things wrong. I am not a counsellor nor do I have any personal experience of PTSD or depression (luckily).  
> I am trying to figure out what David's triggers might be. So far I've come up with this list:  
> \- repetitive noises that remind him of gunfire  
> \- being alone in the dark in his flat  
> \- being touched without warning  
> \- being in the middle of new traumatic events such as the Thornton Circus attack and at the hospital when Julia dies
> 
> Please let me know if you can think of any others. Thanks.


	3. Chapter 3

David Budd’s hands were trembling. He regretted the triple shot espresso he’d grabbed at the café round the corner on the way to occupational health. It wasn’t just the bitter taste in his mouth that made him feel sick, though.  
The counselling sessions brought up anxieties at the best of times, tough lately he was starting to feel more positive about them. But inviting Vicky? What had he been thinking?  
It was too late to backtrack now; by now Vicky would be on her way. He would just have to grit his teeth if things got too up close and personal.  
David accelerated his pace, pulling his hoodie over his head. It was a grey day with dark clouds looming in the sky and a cold wind chilling him to the bones. Nothing like the days of spring they’d had only a week earlier.  
She waited for him at reception. Her hair was down and looked a little windblown. A faint red blush covered her cheeks. The cold wind, he supposed.  
“Thanks for coming, love,” he said as he stopped in front of her, unsure how to greet her. A hug or a kiss felt too close, but a nod was too impersonal. Vicky looked like she was going to lean in for a hug, but then stopped half way and pulled back. David resisted the urge to touch her and settled for a smile instead, hoping it wouldn’t look like a grin.  
“Anything to help, Dave. You know that, don’t you?” She smiled back at him, then leaned closer to look into his eyes. For a moment, David was overwhelmed by the scent of her, a unique scent of Vicky that he couldn’t quite identify. “Are you okay?”  
David pulled back and pushed his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “Aye, I’m fine.” Her question grated him. As if she’d spotted some weakness in his face. He felt like a failure already.  
“Let’s go,” he said and walked down the corridor and up the stairs to occupational health. It annoyed him that their office couldn’t be somewhere less conspicuous. There was no privacy in this building. He wasn’t so worried about himself - everyone in the building now seemed to know about his PTSD. But there would be others who would prefer to get help for their mental health issues more discreetly.  
He knocked on the office door, waited for the “Come in!”, then pushed it open. Lara, his therapist, stood beside her desk and stepped forward to greet him. Her dark hair fell onto her shoulders in soft curls. There was an aura of calm about her, of acceptance that had frightened him at first. He’d burst into tears the first time he set foot in her office, and she hadn’t even said anything yet.  
“Lara, this is my wife, Vicky,” he said, turning to Vicky who had come in behind him. For a moment, the comfort of those two words pushed all other worries into the background. My wife. They lived separate lives. Neither of them had stuck to their marital vows. But she was still his wife.  
Vicky shook Lara’s hand.  
“Nice to meet you.”  
They sat around a small coffee table, Vicky beside him on a faded two-seater sofa and Lara opposite on an armchair with frayed armrests. She smiled encouragingly at both of them, then began to speak.  
“It’s great to have you here, Vicky.” She paused, reached for her notepad and picked up a pen. “I’ve always found it very helpful to have a spouse involved early on in the recovery.” She looked at David. “How are you feeling about Vicky being here?”  
He clasped his hands. The tremor wasn’t strong anymore, but he still felt it. “I’m very grateful for her to be here.”  
Vicky smiled. Lara waited for him to say more. His stomach churned. In a moment, he would be sick.  
“Any other feelings?” Lara asked.  
David blinked at the lights inside the office which appeared much brighter than he remembered. He inhaled deeply into his chest, then remembered that it was better to try to do belly breaths.  
He glanced at Vicky. “I’m extremely anxious.” When he finally exhaled, it felt like an explosion.  
Laura turned to Vicky. “Were you aware of this, Vicky?”  
She shook her head. “I could tell that he was nervous, but that’s understandable.”  
David clenched his hands. There wasn’t enough air in the room to breathe for the three of them. To his left he spotted a window and briefly wondered if it would be rude to get up and open it. Then he remembered that the building was air conditioned with no windows that could be opened.  
“It’s perfectly normal to feel anxious about having Vicky here, David,” Lara said. “Remember, you are in control of how much we discuss. I am just here to guide you and Vicky.”  
He returned his focus onto his breathing.  
Lara went over some ground rules - to listen to each other, to use “I statements” instead of accusing the other one, to keep this a safe place for both of them.  
David glanced over to his wife who was focused on Lara with serious eyes, nodding every now and then, not wanting to miss a word.  
“What is your biggest worry about having Vicky here, David?”  
He looked down on his hands, folded them, unfolded them, keeping his eyes downcast. It was easier to talk when he didn’t need to make eye contact.  
“I can’t hide any longer,” he said. “She’ll get the full picture.” Lara waited. Their silences sometimes stretched out for minutes before he found the courage to carry on. “I never wanted her to see me like this.”  
When he didn’t continue, Lara spoke gently. “David, I think Vicky has the full picture already. She has seen you like this already.”  
He felt heat rise into his cheeks when the full meaning of Lara’s words hit. Of course Vicky knew! It was an insult to think she didn’t have a full picture of what had been going on.  
Lara turned to Vicky who sat on the edge of the seat, her hands folded on her lap.  
“How do you feel about coming here today with David?” David held his breath, turning his head away from Vicky ever so slightly. The air in the small office seemed to run out of oxygen.  
“I’m relieved, a little nervous,” she said in a quiet voice. “And angry.”  
He inspected a piece of fluff he found on his jeans, rolling it in his fingers, watching it fall to the floor.  
“Why do you think you’re angry?”  
Vicky stared into the void in front of her, then raised her eyes to look at Lara.  
“Because…,” she started, then stopped again, catching her breath. David wanted to sink into the floor so he didn’t have to be confronted with the truth.  
“Because I’ve been wanting to do this for two years. Because we might have saved ourselves and our children a lot of heartache. And…” Vicky’s voice caught in her throat. She shot a glance at David before addressing Lara. “...it might have saved our marriage.”  
He felt a sense of relief because none of what he’d heard was new to him. In her anger, she might have thrown insults at him, told him what a useless father and husband he was. But not Vicky.  
Lara nodded. “I understand you’re separated?”  
Vicky wiped away a tear. She had that look on her face when she was angry, but equally annoyed about the tears that often came with her anger. David was very familiar with that look.  
“Aye,” he said.  
“How do you feel about Vicky’s anger, David?” Lara asked.  
He didn’t want to look into anyone’s eyes so he talked to the floor in a quiet voice. “I’m sorry about all of it.”  
Lara’s eyes flitted over to Vicky who suddenly stood, throwing her hands up into the air.  
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” she mocked him. “It’s all I’ve been hearing for the past two years. You’re always sorry, Dave.” Her face was scrunched up and tears had ruined her mascara, leaving behind dark smudges on her face. “Sorry doesn’t mean anything to me any more.” She took a few steps away from the sofa and paced around in the small room.  
David opened his mouth to say “I’m sorry” once again, but stopped himself short just in time. Of course she was right. She was always right.  
Lara looked at him, finding the right moment to carry on. To his surprise, she didn’t invite Vicky back onto the seat, but talked to him.  
“We will need to make time for you to address your feelings of guilt, David. It is very common for sufferers of PTSD to be plagued by seemingly insurmountable feelings of guilt and shame.” She paused and looked straight into his eyes. When he first started coming to these sessions, he’d felt so exposed and vulnerable he could hardly look into her eyes. Now he was finding it a little easier to hold her gaze. Her voice was gentle, but very clear when she carried on. “No one deserves to be plagued by guilt and shame, David. Dwelling on these emotions is nothing more than self-destructive.”  
Vicky had stopped pacing around. She had her back towards David, studying the books on a bookshelf beside her. Her stillness gave away that she was listening very intently.  
“It would be foolish to think you could brush off these feelings. In time, you’ll need to forgive yourself. What has happened to you was not your choice. You did not choose to suffer from this condition.”  
David reached for a glass of water on the coffee table. The cool liquid did little to soothe the tightness in his throat. Vicky joined him back on the sofa, reaching for a glass herself.  
“Choosing to address your PTSD is a very courageous decision. Part of your recovery can be to make amends to those you’ve hurt in the past.”  
She paused, presumably to make sure they both had enough time to process her words. Lara’s words always came in a rhythm of their own, with plenty of silence in between. “In time, you might want to ask Vicky for forgiveness, David.”  
Vicky sat on the sofa and took small sips of water. Her anger had dissipated and she looked vulnerable, frail almost.  
“While Vicky may not be in a place to be able to forgive you immediately, you will have shown your willingness to make amends.”  
It was a lot to take in. David felt a little overwhelmed by what Lara was suggesting.  
He was relieved when Lara addressed Vicky.  
“How would you feel about David asking you for forgiveness, Vicky? Obviously this isn’t something that he’d do just on a whim. There would be a lot of talk going into it before we would even consider this.”  
Vicky blinked, then inhaled. David held his breath. He’d do anything to make things better.  
“I wouldn’t…,” she started, then stopped. David froze. He should have known. She wouldn’t accept it. And why should she? She deserved so much better than what he could offer her.  
“I wouldn’t be opposed,” she said. “But, it would only really mean something if I saw some changes in David as well.”  
“What kind of changes are you talking about?” Lara asked.  
There it was. She’d want him to be a different man, one who wasn’t moody and prone to sleepless nights. One who could be trusted with their children.  
“That he’d communicate with me. Tell me when things are hard. I don’t need any details. Just an indication of how he is feeling instead of this stoic silence.”  
This time Lara took a deep breath. David had the feeling that she might be a tiny bit defensive of him. He pushed the thought away as silly.  
“Have you noticed any changes in David since he took up counselling?”  
Vicky sat up straight, suddenly perkier than throughout the whole session.  
“Oh yes, lots of changes.”  
Lara smiled. It was almost a little victorious. “Maybe you could tell him what you have noticed?”  
Vicky waited as if she wasn’t sure what the therapist had suggested. Then Lara lifted her hand to indicate that she talk to David directly. Vicky turned around slowly until she faced him.  
“You seem happier,” she said.  
David stared at her. Her hair hung down in limp strands, her make up was a mess and she had a look of permanent exhaustion in her eyes. He fought the urge to lift his hand and touch her face.  
“You smile again.”  
She was beautiful, his wife, in all her disarray, her emotional turmoil of today, the past weeks, years. She was here with him, facing his worst.  
A smile tugged at her lips and at first she seemed to fight it, but then it spread across her face and into her eyes, and he thought that there was hope.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your comments. Keep them coming so I can keep writing!  
> This chapter is more about feelings and internal thoughts than action. It's a little sad but I want to explore the feelings of loss that both Vicky and David are going through, despite the hope that things might get better.  
> If you're feeling down, you might want to read it another day.

By the time they left the grey office building, it was nearly dark. The temperature had dropped by a few degrees, courtesy of the icy arctic air howling into the streets of London. Vicky wanted nothing more than to go home, to soak in a hot bath with a glass of wine, then curl up in her bed.  
“Do you want to grab some dinner?” David asked as they stood on the footpath in silence. Like her, he gave no indication that they’d just spent an emotionally toiling hour discussing things that they’d never talked about during their marriage.  
She looked up into his face, but couldn’t make out the expression in the dim light of the streetlamp. One of David’s colleagues came out of the building and nodded at them.  
“Skip,” she said before stepping around them and walking towards a nearby carpark.  
Vicky shook her head. “I just want to go home.”  
“You need some time alone?”  
“Yes.” Tonight she would need all her comforts to replenish after the exhausting session: a long bath filled with lavender essence to relax, a glass of wine, a romantic comedy for emotional reassurance and solace. Normally she wouldn’t have the luxury for such self-indulgence because of the children, but tonight they were staying with her parents.  
“Sure.” David knew her well enough to understand. “I’ll give you a lift home.”  
His eyes glinted in the dark as he said the words. She briefly considered changing her mind about dinner so he didn’t have to go home alone. But she had long learned to look after her own emotional needs first. David’s were so hard to fill it felt like nothing was ever enough.  
“My car’s down the road, actually” she said as David visibly deflated in front of her. These days it took so little for him to lose his confidence “But you can walk me to my car,” she quickly added.  
They walked in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Vicky tucked her hands deep into her coat. Even the bleakest of winter nights hadn’t been as cold as this. A light drizzle had started to fall, adding to the misery.  
They stopped on the footpath when they reached her car. David’s hair was covered in fine droplets that glistened in the semi-darkness. Vicky had the sudden urge to brush them off to stop him from getting colder. She had to dig her fingernails into the palm of her hands to keep her hands from reaching up.  
“Well,” she started.  
“Thanks for…” he said at the same time.  
“It’s nothing,” she said.  
He pulled his shoulders up and folded his arms in front of his chest, trying to stay warm in his thin hoodie.  
“I hope it wasn’t too bad,” he said.  
Vicky shook her head. “I’m glad I came.”  
David waited for her to say more, but there was nothing to add. Not tonight.  
“Good night, Dave,” she said and fished her car keys out of her handbag. “Take care.”  
“Night, Vic,” he said.  
In the rear mirror, she could see him disappear slowly. A hooded figure with his hands in his pockets, watching her drive away.  
Later, in bed, with a glass of red wine on the bedside table, she thought of the changes in him over the last few weeks. She’d seen a glimpse of the David she had married. His kindness, his warmth. His smile. She hadn’t seen it for so long she thought he wasn’t physically or emotionally capable of smiling any longer.  
And once again it sank in how much she had lost.

***

David woke up, startled, his pulse racing. He’d only just fallen asleep. Blinking into the dim light by his bedside, he sat up, scared to fall back into the dreadful nightmare. He ran his hands over his face and groaned.  
Why now? He’d had five days in a row without nightmares. But this one had been so vivid he’d smelt the ferrous odour of blood. Julia’s blood, covering her limp body. In his dream, he could never quite see her face, but he knew with absolute certainty that it would be perfect, unharmed.  
In his dream, he always ran towards her, but his legs never worked. Tonight, they’d taken him to the twisted person lying on the stage in fast strides, and this time, he’d seen her face. Cut up and bruised. Vicky’s face.  
“No”! His scream had been silent.  
In the bathroom, David splashed his face with cold water, then rested his forehead against his arms on the edge of the basin. Inhale for three, hold your breath for three, exhale for three. Repeat. He dried his face on a towel and made it to the kitchen, turning on every light on his way, illuminating the dreary flat. On autopilot, he reached for the kettle and filled it to make a cup of tea.  
Lara had encouraged him to create small habits of comfort for himself, like making himself a hot drink. He’d never been much of a tea drinker and for the first few weeks he had to force himself to sit down and drink the tea. Half the time, he’d only taken a few sips, then poured the rest down the kitchen sink.  
Now, he felt the small routine of pouring himself the herbal tea he had grown to like the most - a chamomile blend with herbs from the Alps - settle his brain stem. He reached for his phone and found a playlist he’d created with Lara’s help - another one of her strategies. He smiled at the thought of how she had quietly invaded his private life with her focus on his wellbeing. He took the tea and his bluetooth speaker to the sofa, turned the music onto a piece of classical music he could never remember the name of, and closed his eyes.  
Breathing in, counting to four, hold the breath for four, breathe out for four. Repeat. Breathe in for six, hold for six, breathe out for six. The smell of the herbal tea reached his nose. Keep breathing. Listen to the sound of the violins, the cello, the flute.  
Vicky’s face appeared in front of his inner eye. The worried look that had ingrained itself in her face so much, it made her rare smiles so much more special.  
He wished she’d let him take her out for dinner that evening. It was the least he could have done for her after she came to occupational health with him. But he understood her need for solace. She’d always needed to retreat on her own for a while when things got tough emotionally.  
David opened his eyes and reached for the cup of tea. It had just cooled down enough to drink and he made a conscious effort to savour the taste, feel the heat trickle down his throat and warm him from the inside.  
He had never allowed himself to feel these things. Until a few weeks ago, he had never even noticed them. His life has been one big rush of adrenaline-filled exhilaration, threats, speed and fear. Even now he had to stop himself from jumping up to find a new distraction. But Lara had said he needed to slow down. He listened to her like a child would to a strict, but fair teacher.  
Routines, she’d said a couple of weeks ago. Routines really help. You need to get into them and stick to them. He and Vicky had made a start. He picked the kids up three times a week on a Monday, Tuesday and Thursday. They stayed with him every second weekend. Three times a week, they ate dinner together as a family, usually at Vicky’s, but they’d had one outing to McDonald’s which the children thought was Christmas.  
More routines. He needed more of them to fill his days. Even though Lara said - Lara said! - that he shouldn’t try to fill the void. He should learn to slow down and learn to be still in order to feel himself again.  
David paused the music on his phone. He reached for the cup and finished the tea. Be brave, Lara had said. Allow yourself to go through your emotions. It was as if she lived in his head and every time he tried to talk himself out of something uncomfortable or painful, she was there, reassuring, but also nagging.  
Be still in order to feel yourself again, she now said.  
He pushed play and closed his eyes. The mournful tones of the cello. The complaint of the oboe. His insides ached as his throat tightened like a vice. There was Julia’s face. Her twisted body. And there was Vicky and her anger. How much loss could one person take? Would he ever get used to this pain?  
He sat still. As the first tears ran down his face, he slumped into the foetal position and gave into the sobs that shook his body.


	5. Chapter 5

David reached for his phone when he saw it blinking with a notification. It was a voicemail from Vicky.  
“Hey. I’m picking up the kids from mum and dad’s after lunch. Give me a ring if you want to come along.”  
Vicky had left the message while he’d been in the shower after his morning run. The daily run was another part of his routine he had developed with Lara’s help, even though he wasn’t much into running.  
He sat down on the edge of his bed and dialed her number.  
“Hi love,” he said when she answered.  
“How are you?”  
He was about to say ‘great, thanks’, then changed his mind. She wanted him to be honest, not feign happiness, didn’t she?  
“Alright,” he said. “It’s been a tough night.”  
“Couldn’t sleep?”  
“Terrible nightmare. Couldn’t settle down after.”  
“I’m sorry to hear. It’s good that you have some strategies now to cope with this kind of stuff, isn’t it?” She made it sound so easy. Just choose one of your strategies, apply it and you’ll be fine. But she sounded so hopeful he didn’t want to disappoint her.  
“Aye, for sure.”  
There was a pause which he tried hard not to fill with chit-chat. He wanted her to know that he was comfortable around her. That he could be silent with her in a good way, even on the phone.  
“So...” Vicky hesitated. Was she nervous about this? “Do you want to come along to my parents’ to pick up the kids?”  
“Won’t they mind?” He never quite knew what they thought of him. Vicky hadn’t been very open to them about their marital problems, and when they split up, they were devastated. He didn’t think that she had told them about his mental health issues, but instead blamed the demise of their marriage on ‘growing apart’.  
“‘Course not. They’d love to see you.”  
When he knocked on her door an hour later, there were butterflies in his stomach, as if he was taking her out to dinner. This was the first time she’d actively sought out his company without having to do so. She could have easily picked the children up by herself, and he would have spent the day on his own. Had she rung him out of pity? Or did she really want to spend more time with him?  
“Hi.” Her face looked smooth and bright, void of the usual worry in her eyes, just Vicky in her every-day look, beautiful. He was lost for words.  
“Aren’t you coming in?” she asked when he kept staring at her.  
“Sure.”  
He stepped into the house and watched as she fetched a bottle of white wine from the kitchen.  
“Mum likes a tipple every now and then, with me,” she said as she read the label.  
“Good thing I’m driving,” he said. “You can have a bit of fun, with your mum.”  
“That’s what we need in our lives, to be frank. After all this….” She was looking for the right word. “Crap. We need fun. Lots of it.”  
She bent down to put her shoes on, reached for the bottle and brushed past him, leaving a trail of her fruity shampoo scent behind. The drive to her parents’ place only took a few minutes. He pulled up on the side of the road and turned to look at Vicky who was about to get out.  
“Vic?”  
“Yes?”  
“What did you tell your parents? About me?”  
“Why?”  
“I don’t want to hide what’s been going on any longer.”  
“I’ve told them that you’re on stress leave. That the attacks on you and Julia’s assassination have left you….,” She hesitated. “Traumatised.”  
The first few minutes with Vicky’s dad felt like an interrogation. Had the criminals involved in Julia’s murder been arrested? Was there a date for the trial yet? Would he have to testify in court?  
He was grateful when the children came to greet him, clung to him like limpets, arguing about who got to sit on his lap first. In the end, he picked them both up, his arm wrapped around each one of them, and collapsed onto the sofa with them.  
After lunch, he helped Vicky’s mum with the dishes. He finished stacking the plates into the dishwasher when he noticed that she’d stopped rinsing the pots.  
“Is anything wrong?” He had to ask as his confidence shrank under her stare.  
“Oh no, love. I was just thinking how nice it is to see you two talk to each other like normal people. You seem a lot happier in each other’s company.”  
She put the pot she had been holding in the cupboard and reached for the kettle.  
“Aye,” David said, taken aback by her openness. He’d never had such a personal conversation with her before. “We’re trying,” he added.  
“It’s nice. I’m sure it’s better for the children, too.”  
Just then Vicky popped her head through the kitchen door.  
“What’s better for the children?” she asked.  
Her mum scowled at her. David thought she was going to tell off her daughter for butting in like that, but then she smiled a little, keen to reveal the private conversation she’d just had with him.  
“That you and David can have a conversation without scratching each other’s eyes out.”  
Vicky looked horrified. “Mum!”  
But she just continued to smile.  
“Isn’t it true, though?”  
David pretended not to be listening, but focussed all his attention on the cutlery drawer. He glanced sideways to see Vicky blush.  
“I guess so,” she said. “But it’s none of your business.”  
He couldn’t quite understand why she was so touchy about this. But then her relationship with her mother had always been fraught. Vicky never felt like she’d outgrown her childhood, that her mum treated her like a child, not an adult.  
Today, her mother was wise enough to back down.  
“Of course, honey. It’s none of my business.”  
Vicky turned on her heels and left the kitchen. David cleared his throat.  
“Seems like a touchy topic for Vicky,” her mum said.  
“Aye.” David didn’t know how else to react and decided he’d keep his mouth shut.  
On the way back to Vicky’s house they stopped at the park again. The children had nagged them to go to the playground. Why not? They both had time on their hands - it was Vicky’s day off and David had all the time in the world.  
They sat down on the bench and watched as Ella and Charlie ran off.  
“That was nice, lunch with your parents,” David said. He meant it. It had been the most relaxing meal with her parents since the children had been toddlers.  
“I wish mum wouldn’t interfere,” Vicky harrumphed.  
“I actually thought it just showed how much she cares,” David said.  
“I suppose you’re right,” Vicky said with a sigh. “It’s hard for me to accept anything from her.”  
They sat in silence, watching the kids. David leaned his back against the seat and closed his eyes to soak up the warmth of the sun on his face. Every now and then a soundbite from the children reached his ears. Vicky’s shampoo smell had dissipated but he thought he could pick up something else that was uniquely her scent.  
He opened his eyes to see Vicky stare at him. She averted her eyes, shook her head.  
“Sorry, I just….” she started.  
“What?”  
“I just thought how relaxed you look. How well you look.”  
He smiled. “It’s all thanks to Lara. She’s trying to get me to be ‘in the moment’. It’s really hard,” he said, wondering if Vicky thought he was a bit loopy. Vicky smiled back at him.  
“I’m glad that you’ve found some strategies to help you.”  
David inhaled deeply, not wanting to spoil the beautiful moment. But if he really wanted to make progress with Vicky he had to be more open. He couldn’t keep things to him any longer.  
“Last night…,” he started. He lifted his eyes to see Ella high up on the swings while Charlie was on top of the fort, waving his arms at her. “Last night was bad.”  
Vicky sat very still, her eyes focussed on the children in the distance who were now racing towards the slide.  
“It’s always the same nightmare,” he said. “Julia dead on the stage. Blood.” He didn’t want to go into more detail.  
“Daddy, Daddy!” Charlie yelled from the bottom of the bright yellow slide. “Watch me!” He ran up the slide, came to a stop mid-way, and slid down backwards on his stomach.  
“He seems a lot happier,” David commented, thoughts of the nightmare temporarily gone.  
“He’s enjoying his new school. Told me yesterday he’d already made three new friends,” Vicky said.  
They watched as the boy kept running up the slide, failing many times before he finally reached the top with a triumphant shriek.  
“You were in it, too,” David blurted out.  
If she was surprised by this revelation, she didn’t show.  
“That would have been…,” she started, searching for an appropriate word. “Confusing.” Another pause. “I mean, I’ve never been in her company. You’ve never seen us at the same time. And then we’re both in your dream.”  
David smiled. This wasn’t too far from reality. He’d had daydreams about a reconciliation with Vicky even while he was having an affair with Julia. But to have Vicky in his nightmare made it a thousand times worse.  
“It threw me to see you. Your face was cut and bruised.”  
“It must have felt very real.”  
“Aye. Usually, I run towards Julia but my legs never move. This time my legs worked and it felt so real. And then I saw your face.”  
He felt Vicky’s hand on his thigh.  
“Good thing it wasn’t real,” she said gently.  
His smile was weak. “It felt real.”  
He looked down on her hand which still rested on his leg.  
“It took me a while to settle down after a cup of tea, some music,” he continued. “I cried.”  
He thought she was going to take his hand, but she didn’t. “Oh Dave, I’m so sorry,” she said.  
“No, I don’t want your pity,” he said, instantly regretting when he saw the hurt look on her face. She pulled her hand back. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong.”  
She didn’t say anything for a long time. David silently chided himself for snapping at her. Why did he always push her away when all she wanted was to be kind?  
“You’re doing so well. I’m really proud of you,” she said.  
The breath he’d been holding came out in a gush. It was such a relief to share his thoughts with her and not feel like he had to keep hiding.  
The children were busy playing shop in an enclosed area below the fort. They were more relaxed too. He wondered if it was because he and Vicky were more relaxed around each other.  
“Vic?” he said to her when he was sure that the children were too busy playing not to worry about their parents.  
“Hm?” She turned to face him, shielding her eyes with her hand from the low lying sun.  
“I do want to go through with this asking-for-forgiveness thing Lara talked about.”  
She blinked a couple of times, then smiled at him.  
“You don’t have to do this, Dave,” she said. “I know that you’re sorry.”  
Of course she would say that. But in this instance, he wouldn’t let her talk out of it.  
“But I want to do it. I need to,” he said. “For you.” She smiled again and reached for his hand.  
“I think you need to do it for yourself,” she said. “Which is just as important.”  
Her hand sat soft and warm in his. It took all of his willpower not to lift and graze his lips against it.  
“You’re right,” he said, squeezing her hands a little bit more and leaning closer to see into her eyes. His throat did the tightening thing that it did all the time now when he felt emotional.  
He was close enough to feel Vicky’s breath on his cheeks. What would it feel like to kiss her again, he wondered. How could he have been so depressed that he’d stopped kissing her when now, it was all he wanted?  
He waited for her to make the first move but just as he thought she’d kiss him, a loud bang exploded behind them.  
Shots were fired, smoke billowed around him. Screaming women and children. More shots. The acrid smell of burnt flesh. He squeezed his eyes shut so he wouldn’t have to see them. If he stayed where he was he wouldn’t be seen. He wouldn’t hear their voices. He ducked, then everything went still, mute.  
A thick soup of fog surrounded him, his ears stuffed with cotton balls, his eyes filled with water. He was back at Thornton Circus with Julia, Terri’s brains sprayed across the inside of the car and over Julia. The fog lifted and he heard her scream at the top of her voice. Her hand clutched his, her terrified eyes seeking his in the confines of the car. Then they were at St Matthews. Screams and smoke filled the air. Julia lying prone on the stage, her head tilted away from him, not moving.  
When the smoke lifted, the noise faded and the smell dissipated. He heard a voice.  
“Dave,” she said gently. “It’s me, Vicky. You’re here with me. I’m here with you.”  
He blinked to see Vicky crouching in front of him. His heart was racing a hundred miles an hour. His hands trembled and when he tried to stop them he noticed he was curled up under the park bench with his head tucked in between his hands.  
“Look, Ella and Charlie are here, too,” he heard Vicky say. His children met him at eye level and Ella said, “Are you okay, Daddy?” while Charlie hid behind his mother, scared of what he must see in David’s face.  
He sucked in air, quickly, but there wasn’t enough oxygen. His breaths came fast, shallow. He sucked in more air, feeling light headed.  
“Dave,” Vicky said again. “Look at me. Breathe with me.” Her soft face appeared right in front of him, her eyes warm and comforting. She talked him through his breathing until he felt better.  
“That’s it, Dad,” he heard Ella say. “You’re doing it!” Choking back tears, he tried to smile at her.  
“Hold my hand, Daddy,” Charlie piped up. He’d inched a little closer and stretched his hand out.  
David took it, closed his eyes for a moment to gather his thoughts, then said, “Thanks, Big Man.”  
“Is everything alright?” A concerned voice asked.  
Glancing up, he noticed a police officer observe them.  
“Yes, everything is alright. David’s just had a bit of a….scare,” she said.  
The officer stared at the little family all on their hands and feet.  
“If you’re sure…” he said, then wandered off only to stand a few metres away to stop and keep an eye on them.  
David shuffled out from under the bench and took Vicky’s hand. She led him to sit down on the bench, with his children beside him.  
“Are you okay?” she asked. Her voice was so gentle he almost burst into tears.  
“Sure.” Charlie and Ella were both staring at him. He owed them an explanation. “Whatever that bang was, it gave me a fright. I remembered some bad things that happened to me. I thought I was there, not here with you in this park,” he added.  
The children took one of his hands each.  
“I think a car backfired,” Charlie said. “There was no danger to anyone, Dad.”  
David smiled at the matter-of-fact comment.  
“You’re right, Big Man,” he said, feeling any remaining strength in his body dissipate.  
“Let’s go home,” Vicky said and stood. “Come on, guys.”  
David was grateful for her lead. There was no energy left in him to make decisions, just an overwhelming urge to lie down and rest. The drive home took the last ounce of concentration left in him. Thanks to Vicky’s guidance, they made it home without getting lost.

***

At home, the children sat down for afternoon tea, consuming mountains of biscuits, chippies and fruit before disappearing into their rooms. When Vicky suggested that David lay down on her bed for a rest, he looked uncomfortable.  
“No, the sofa will do,” he said.  
She left him to it and went into the kitchen to make a pot of tea. She put his favourite oat cakes onto a plate and brought them into the lounge with the tea.  
David lay on his side with one arm tucked under his head. His eyes were closed and he seemed to be in a deep sleep. Nothing of the episode was visible on his face. He looked relaxed and rested, his face smooth and soft.  
She looked at his bare arms, his shoulders, his neck. He’d recently had a haircut and she could see the lighter skin where his hair had been trimmed. The urge to touch him was so strong, she reached out to stroke his face, then pulled back and turned away. Sitting down opposite him in the one seater, she picked up her cup of tea and took a small sip.  
After all their ups and downs, the late night phone calls that were now a distant memory, the arguments and denials, she wondered why the pull to be near him was so strong again. They wouldn’t last two minutes before they’d fall back into their old habits of bickering and making each other’s life miserable.  
She watched as he turned on his back, stretched out his leg and lifted one arm over his head. Even a couple of weeks ago he would have never been able to relax like that, not here in her presence, not anywhere.  
From upstairs she could hear the children shout at each other. But instead of standing at the bottom of the stairs, yelling at them to be quiet, she pictured herself getting up, walking the few steps over to the sofa and lowering herself on top of David. She’d nestle her legs between his, place her nose at his neck, the source of his magic scent that she missed so much. He would wrap his hands around her waist and push his groins up against her hips.  
“Mum!” A cry from upstairs pulled her out of her daydream. She put the cup down and shook her head to shake off the fantasy that had played out in front of her inner eye.  
Vicky turned her head, listened for more complaints from upstairs, then faced the sofa again. If the children really needed her, they’d come downstairs.  
David shifted again, this time placing both of his hands on his chest. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him so exposed, so vulnerable.  
She swallowed, staring into her empty cup. Why was she fantasising about him? They weren’t a couple anymore and touching him was not even a remote possibility. She poured herself another cup of tea, surprised at the turn of her emotions.  
David stirred. He stretched one arm out and groaned, rolled onto his side and opened his eyes. She expected him to sit up, rub his face and make a beeline into the bathroom. But not this new Dave. He lay on his side and looked across the room to her.  
“How long have I been out?” he asked.  
She checked her watch. “A good half hour.”  
He took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face. “It felt like hours.”  
Upstairs, everything had gone quiet. Vicky wondered if the children were causing trouble.  
“Are you always so exhausted afterwards?” Vicky asked.  
He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling.  
“Normally, I just carry on with whatever is required.” He paused, pulled one knee up, and turned his head to look at her. “At work, I’d just get on with it, hope that nobody noticed anything.”  
“So you go from one state of anxiety to the next?”  
“Aye.”  
She took another sip of her tea.  
“Is it always triggered by a loud noise?”  
I’ve pushed him too far, she thought, when he didn’t reply for a long time. But she was getting good at this waiting game and just sat, sipping tea, glancing at him every now and then.  
He lowered his legs to the ground and sat up. His hair was sticking up at an odd angle. He looked so much like the man she had married before he became a soldier and a PPO, it hurt. He reached for his cup of tea on the coffee table and pulled a face when he realised it had gone cold.  
“Mostly,” he said. “Sometimes it’s flickering light, darkness. Facing a dangerous situation.”  
Vicky sighed. “I never knew how to bring this up, but…,” she started, not knowing how he would take what she was about to say.  
He fixed her with a stern look. “Just say it.” She opened her mouth, hesitant, noticing for the first time in many months his intense blue eyes.  
“I think you need a change of career.”  
David kept his eyes on her for a long time, then spoke.  
“It’s all I know. It’s all I’m good at.”  
Vicky shook her head, suddenly realising how important, vital even, it was for him to find a different profession.  
“You can’t keep working in such a stressful, high-stakes atmosphere. You need to find something else, for your own sake.”  
“I won’t be able to support you or the kids if I don’t go back to work when my leave is up.”  
So what if he had to go on the dole for a while, she thought. She didn’t care. But he was too proud to ever consider that. There was something primal, irritatingly macho about his need to provide for his family. It had bothered her when they had first separated and his main concern had been supporting her and the kids financially. She had wished for him to be more concerned about the emotional fallout of their separation.  
“What do you suggest I do?” he asked.  
Vicky shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not sure. But you have time on your hands. You’ll figure something out. And Lara and I, we’ll help you.”  
He didn’t look convinced at all.  
“Are you staying here, Daddy?” Charlie’s voice piped up. She turned to see him in the doorway and wondered how long he’d been listening to their conversation.  
David didn’t seem surprised at all by Charlie so maybe he’d only just appeared.  
“No, I’m going home now,” he said. “It’s getting late.” He glanced at Vicky, then stood and walked over to Charlie.  
“Why can’t you stay?” the boy asked.  
“Because I don’t live here any longer, Big Man,” he said. “I’ve got my flat.”  
Charlie reached for David’s hand. “But you could ask Mummy to let you stay,” he insisted.  
David didn’t look at Vicky when he replied.  
“No, Big Man. Mummy wants you to have an early night. And she doesn’t need another person to look after.”  
He lifted Charlie up and gave him a tight squeeze. “I’ll pick you up after school tomorrow, okay?”  
Charlie nodded, wrapped his arms around David’s neck and rested his head against his chin. Vicky called Ella to come down to say her goodbyes. They all stood crammed in the corridor, waiting for David to leave.  
The kids gave him a kiss and another hug, then wandered off to watch TV. David lifted his eyes to look at Vicky.  
“Thanks for everything today,” he said. She smiled and waved her hand in dismissal.  
“It’s….”  
Before she could finish her sentence, David leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. A brief kiss that was over before she had a chance to savour it.  
“See ya, Vic,” he said and left. Vicky stood, felt the imprint of his lips on her face and shook her head in a mixture of delight and irritation.  
Every time he left, it was getting harder to say goodbye. Every time he left, she missed him more.


	6. Chapter 6

David tightened the towel around his waist and leaned over his bathroom vanity to check himself in the mirror. There was a small nick on his chin from shaving, but it had stopped bleeding. His hair was damp and stood in short spikes. Two days ago, the hairdresser had taken off a lot more than usual and now he felt a little bare.  
Of course, it was nothing compared to the cropped head he’d sported as a soldier. There was still a slight wave in his hair, but it wasn’t long enough to form any curls. He checked the cut again, pleased that it was only minor. Vicky liked the feel of his skin fresh and smooth.  
He hadn’t seen her since that day in the park, but the kiss on the doorstep had stayed with him. Maybe tonight she would return the kiss. Hence the need for a smooth shave.  
It was Gala night at Charlie’s new school. A fundraising event with a sit-down dinner cooked by the parent-teacher association, followed by an art auction. Not exactly his cup of tea. Just the thought of being confined in a space with people he didn’t know, forced to make polite conversations, made his heart go faster. He would have preferred a nice dinner out with her in a more private setting.  
But Charlie had pestered him and Vicky for so long that they couldn’t say no. And when he’d finally agreed, he realised that it would be like taking her on a date, and that was a good thing, right? The kids wouldn’t be there, just a bunch of parents and staff from the school, most of whom he wouldn’t know.  
In his last session with Lara she said it would be a great idea to attend with Vicky. An opportunity to do something together without the kids in tow, a shared experience that would hopefully bring them a little closer. And it would be a good chance for him to see how he coped in a public setting now that he was getting better at using the strategies he’d learned and practised during his counselling sessions.  
“Don’t you think it’s a bit risky, given that we’ve fought hard to get Charlie into this school?” he’d countered. “What if I have an episode like the one at the park?”  
She’d studied him for a long time before answering. “I think you’re ready to take this risk. You won’t make progress if you hide inside your four walls. Besides, if the worst comes to the worst, you can always claim a migraine and leave. Nobody would ever know why.”  
He talked about his concerns with Vicky who seemed ridiculously pleased with him.  
“I’m proud of you, Dave,” she’d said. “You’re really opening up to me about your feelings.”  
Some days it was getting all a bit too touchy-feely for him. The constant being-in-touch-with-your-feelings didn’t fit the picture of a man he carried inside of him. A man who used to be a soldier, then a PPO.  
But Lara had dismissed these doubts as well.  
“You’re ten times a man now than you were before,” she’d said. He felt a little insulted. Who was she to decide how good a man he had been? “Real men are not afraid to show that they’re vulnerable. Real men embrace their feelings and their insecurities.”  
He wasn’t sure about that. But Vicky seemed to like this new openness about him, and wasn’t this more important than anything else?  
David wiped the condensation from the mirror, ran a comb through his hair and went into his bedroom to get dressed. He slid into boxers and a pair of dark jeans he’d bought for the occasion. They would look smart enough for the Gala dinner with a white shirt.  
His shirts hung in his wardrobe on wooden coathangers, hardly used. These days he dressed in jeans, t-shirts and jumpers, not dress shirts. He pushed his shirts across the metal rail, searching for his favourite white one with the tiny embroidered kingfisher bird on it.  
The doorbell rang.  
“Shit,” he swore, grabbed a different shirt and threw it on. Checking his watch, he hurried downstairs to open the door to Vicky.  
“You’re early,” he said.  
She was in a red dress he’d never seen before. He opened his mouth to comment how beautiful she looked, but she just stood in the door, frozen, and stared at him. Her make-up was subtle, bringing out her eyes. which were set on his face. Her gaze dropped down onto his open shirt, then his bare feet. She didn’t say a word.  
“Come in,” he said and reached for her hand. “It’s freezing outside.”  
Vicky stepped into the entry but still didn’t say anything.  
“I’m sorry, I won’t be long. Come on up,” he said and turned on his heels, then stopped. “Vicky? Are you alright?”  
She shook her head as if to shake herself out of a trance and looked into his eyes.  
“Of course, sorry.” She smiled. “I was just a little distracted.”  
He glanced at her.  
“Distracted by what?”  
There was a moment when he thought she’d lean into him, wrap her hands around his neck and kiss him, but it passed when she hurried him along.  
“Never mind. Keep moving.”  
He climbed the stairs up to the first floor, feeling Vicky’s eyes on his backside. In the kitchen he stopped and asked if she wanted a drink.  
She shook her head.  
He smiled and studied her dress in more detail. It was dark red, burgundy almost, and clung to her body in loose layers. He wondered if it was made from silk as it had a beautiful sheen to it and looked light.  
“New jeans?” Vicky pulled him out of his thoughts as she tilted her head and suggestively looked at his rear.  
He nodded, then gestured at her dress.  
“New dress?”  
She smiled. “No, I’ve had it for a while. But it’s the first time I’m wearing it.”  
David took a few steps towards her, but stopped short of lifting his hand to touch the beautiful fabric. “It’s gorgeous.”  
She’d done something different to her hair, too. It was pinned up at the back, but a few tendrils curled down behind her ears. David averted his eyes, fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, then looked up into her eyes. “It’s not the dress, it’s you. You’re gorgeous.”  
Vicky blushed beautifully.  
“Thanks. You don’t scrub up too badly either,” she said.  
He looked down on his bare feet and the semi-buttoned shirt.  
“I’d better finish.” He made his way into the bedroom, found some socks in his drawer and flicked through the shirts again. Did it have to be a white shirt? There were plenty of others which had been ironed, but which one was most suitable for the occasion?  
“Vicky? Can you help me pick a shirt?” he called over his shoulder.  
She stepped into the room, her first glance cast onto the bed. He was glad he’d made it earlier in the day, even though the sheets weren’t nicely squared. He wanted her to think of him as sticking to his routines, looking after his flat and himself just like Lara had suggested.  
Vicky stared at the bed for a little too long, then looked up at him.  
He held up two shirts. One was plain light blue. A nice strong fabric, but overall a bit bland and conservative. The other one was striped in thin lines of white and salmon.  
Her eyes darted from one shirt to the other and back. Then she took two steps towards him, took the two coathangers off him and laughed.  
“Neither!” She chucked them onto the bed, turned and stepped toward his wardrobe, flicking through his other shirts. He stood right behind her, looking over her shoulder to see what she picked for him, once again noticing the way her hair was pinned up. It looked very natural, as if she’d only taken a minute to do it.  
She pushed the shirts from one side to the other, then back, inspected different options, only to stop at a cherry coloured check shirt which he’d never worn before. He picked up the smell of her shampoo, triggering a memory of one of their first dates. It seemed impossible that this particular shampoo was still around after all these years, but the memory was so vivid, there was no other explanation.  
He’d taken her on a river cruise on the Thames. It had been one of those few balmy summer evenings in London. There’d been live music and they’d danced to every song and Vicky whispered in his ear that she wished this evening never ended. When he’d dropped her off at home, he finally plucked up the courage to kiss her. It wasn’t just a peck on her cheek, but a kiss that had sealed their future.  
“This one.” Vicky turned around, bumping into David who stood so close behind her that she had to put one hand on his chest to keep her balance.  
“Sorry,” she said, laughing. “I didn’t know you were right here.”  
Her hand lingered on his chest for a little longer, and David thought that he should put his on top of hers, then remove the shirt from her other hand, and take her to bed.  
Instead, he mumbled an apology, fished for the shirt she’d chosen and put it on. What was going on? Normally, their encounters were hurried pick-ups of the kids, heavy discussions about his illness or Vicky venting about the unrealistic demands of her boss.  
Tonight, it was as if none of this was part of them, and instead they were like any normal couple intent on getting closer with neither of them knowing how close they wanted to get. He felt like stepping into the wardrobe to hide his insecurities. But when he turned around, Vicky was smiling at him, pleased with her choice.  
“Very smart,” she said. “Give us a twirl?”  
David did as she asked. When he faced her again, her eyes were lit up in pleasure.  
Vicky checked her watch. “We better hurry,” she said. “We don’t want to be late for the cocktail party.”  
David wouldn’t mind missing it because it would be a time of boring small talk. And since he stopped drinking, he wouldn’t even be able to enjoy a cocktail.  
“Are they allowed to serve cocktails?” he wondered as he followed Vicky downstairs. He put his shoes on while she fished for her car keys.  
“I think they’re going to be mocktails,” she said. “Unless they got a liquor licence for the evening? I’m not sure.”  
David decided he didn’t care. Either way, it would be sweet fruity drinks for him tonight.  
On the way to Charlie’s school, Vicky turned to him when she stopped at a traffic light.  
“How are you feeling?”  
“Good,” he said, trying to sound confident and cheerful.  
“You’ve got your backup plan?”  
So much for thinking they were an ordinary couple tonight.  
“Yeah, a migraine.” She deflated a little, as if she could feel the magic of the evening disappear already. “I think I can feel one coming along now,” he joked, hoping to lift the mood.  
The light turned green and Vicky accelerated quickly.  
“Don’t you dare,” she said in a mock-stern voice. “I’ve been looking forward to this evening with you for a long time.”  
“I thought this was just a fundraising thing we couldn’t get out of?”  
She didn’t answer for a while, but concentrated on the traffic ahead.  
“It’s more than that, Dave,” she finally said. “It’s a date.”

***

Vicky couldn’t keep her eyes off David when he went to fetch drinks for them. They’d found themselves a table for two in the beautifully decorated school hall. She’d expected tables in groups of eight or ten, but the whole setup was much more intimate with many couples sitting on their own, or maybe in a group of four. There was a quiet, pleasant feeling to the place. Somehow, she’d expected crowds of noisy people. She’d been to fundraising events at Ella’s school which were usually raucous, noisy affairs. This here was pleasantly surprising.  
Vicky soon noticed that she wasn’t the only one who couldn’t keep her eyes off David. He’d already turned one of the staff member’s heads as they entered. Vicky tried not to glare at the woman who looked like she was ten years younger and two stones slimmer than her.  
Now an older woman in a floral dress was gawking at him as he made his way back with two mocktails in his hands.  
“Why the frown?” he asked as he placed the drinks on their table and pulled his chair in.  
She considered making up some excuse but decided to be honest.  
“I don’t like the competition here.” She took a sip of the drink and pulled a face as it was far too sweet for her liking.  
David stared at her, puzzled.  
“I don’t like sharing you with other women,” she elaborated. Suddenly she felt brave and bold, as if she’d downed a couple of glasses of wine that had taken the edge of her insecurities.  
David still didn’t get it. There was nothing new about that, of course. He had no idea about the effect of his looks on other women. Most of the time, he wasn’t even aware that women noticed him at all. Still, she didn’t know if she could be completely honest with him.  
She’d been speechless when he’d opened the door to her earlier that evening. Standing there in bare feet, his hair still damp, and the open shirt, she’d momentarily lost all control and could only stare. Then there was the bed. As if it were coaxing her to lie down on it with David. She could already feel his weight on her, felt his hand sliding up her thigh, felt his lips on her neck. A visceral feeling that completely paralysed her. And that was before she’d bumped into him after selecting a shirt for him.  
David leaned in his chair, one hand on his drink, the other resting on his thigh, waiting. She opened her mouth to form the words that would reveal how much she wanted him.  
“Excuse me.” A nasal voice interrupted them. Vicky looked up to see the young woman from earlier, leaning over their table, sticking her cleavage under David’s eyes. “Would you like to buy some raffle tickets?”  
“No, thanks,” Vicky said before David could even consider answering. “We’ll have our meal first.”  
The woman didn’t even meet Vicky’s eyes but retreated swiftly. David’s eyebrows lifted in an arch, then he burst out laughing.  
It was so good to see him so relaxed, but it felt like he was laughing at her.  
“What’s so funny?” she asked, irritated with herself that she couldn’t see the funny side to this situation.  
“Did you see that? She practically stuck her boobs into my face.” He lifted his hand to his mouth to stop himself from laughing out loud.  
“That’s what I meant! There’s all these predatory women, eyeing you up, wondering when they can come in for the kill.”  
David wiped his eyes, took a drink from his mocktail and grabbed a handful of crisps from the bowl in front of them. He leaned back in his chair, chewed on the crisps and studied her.  
Vicky noticed a stream of teenagers dressed in black aprons and white t-shirts bringing out the meal. They looked too old to be students at Charlie’s school. Vicky suddenly felt very hungry and desperate for an alcoholic drink which, of course, wouldn’t be available here.  
“Why should it worry you when other women take an interest in me?” David’s question came out of the blue. Hormones, she thought. And the fact that she hadn’t had sex in weeks.  
“Because you’re on a date with me tonight. And I don't want to share you with anyone, even if it’s just for tonight.”  
He smiled the crooked smile that she loved so much. “I’m flattered.”  
“Don’t let it get to your head,” she said. To her relief, dinner arrived in the form of a fish pie and a side salad. Vicky wasn’t a great fan of fish pie, but she dug into her plate with gusto, relieved that for now, their conversation was over.  
David seemed to enjoy the food too because he didn’t say anything else until he’d finished his meal.  
“Do you want some water?”  
She nodded, then watched him get out of his chair and walk over to fetch the water from a side table nearby. She couldn’t help herself but scan the room for the young woman but luckily, she wasn’t anywhere to be seen.  
David poured water for both of them. She emptied half the glass and put it down a bit too loudly.  
When he sat down, their plates and cutlery were collected by the teenage waiters. He kept his eyes on Vicky, his lips twitching in a smile.  
“What’s so funny?” she asked.  
“You. So possessive.” That smile. It had haunted her when she’d first met him. “I haven’t seen that streak in you before.”  
She had to come clean.  
“Hormones, I’m sorry.” She couldn’t tell him that she had daydreams of them back together in their house, of family holidays spent with the kids, of a new start as a couple.  
David leaned in closer until his chest touched the table top. He lowered his head, but kept his eyes on hers.  
“Just hormones?”  
She averted her eyes because he would see that she was lying.  
“Mmm.”  
“Sex?”  
She felt her face flush.  
“Yup.”  
Dave put his hand on the table to run his finger up and down her thumb, then turned it over to expose her wrist. A jolt went through her arm, up her spine, into her brain as if she’d been hardwired into a socket, setting each cell in her body on fire.  
She briefly closed her eyes, took a deep breath and opened them again to look at him.  
“You’re such a bad liar, Vic,” he said, then turned his head as a band started to play at the other end of the hall.  
He pulled her up from her chair and coaxed her across the dining area to a dance floor. Nobody else had started dancing and normally, Vicky would rather die than be dancing up there on their own. But when he pulled her into his arms, she forgot about her surroundings. There was only Dave, his arms wrapped around her waist, his clean-shaven cheeks beside hers, his shoulders broad and strong.  
Dave, what are you doing to me, she thought. How can I stop myself from kissing you here in front of everyone, at our son’s school, pashing like a teenager?

***

“David?”  
One minute, everything had been perfect. Vicky in his arms, swaying to the slow rhythm of the music, her scent under his nose, her breasts pushing against his chest.  
A promise of more to come once they were out of everyone’s eyes, an anticipation he hadn’t felt for years, giddy and horny like a teenager. They’d found a way to the front of the room, bent on sneaking out of the dance any moment to find some privacy, maybe finally consummate the kiss that had been growing between them over the course of the evening, heck, the last few weeks. And that would only be the start.  
Then a hand on his shoulder out of nowhere, a deep voice right beside his ear. A jolt. Disaster.  
After, he couldn’t remember much of it. Vicky filled him in back at his flat.  
“You started shouting, became agitated. You grabbed him by the scruff for a brief moment. I managed to get you out of there quickly.”  
He was so ashamed he wanted to disappear and never return. She said the man had been very understanding. She’d told him on her way out that David suffered from PTSD and the man had reassured everyone around him that everything was okay.  
David could only imagine the embarrassment in front of all the staff and parents of the school community. He also suspected that Vicky downplayed the incident to spare him, and that irritated him even more.  
He sat on his sofa with Vicky next to her, remembering the exhilaration he’d felt when they were dancing.  
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “It just proves how fucked up I am.”  
“Don’t say that,” Vicky said.  
“But I am, aren’t I?” He could feel the rage rise in him.  
“You had no idea that was going to happen. It’s not your fault.”  
“Doesn’t matter. There’s always something that could trigger me. How could I ever have thought that I can lead a normal life again? How could I ever have thought that we could get back together again?”  
There, it was out. Sure, this wasn’t the way he had wanted to tell her, to ask her if there was a second chance for them.  
“Is that what you want? For us to get back together?” Vicky’s voice was small, as if she didn’t trust what she’d heard.  
“After tonight, that’s never going to happen. I can’t put you through this. I can’t put the kids through this.”  
“Dave…”  
“Look at what I’ve done! We were ready to sneak out for a kiss, or a cuddle, or a fuck - take your pick!- and then some innocent bloke sneaks up from behind, and all hell breaks lose.” He jumped to his feet. The rage was on the boil. He clenched his fists, trying to ignore his pounding heart.  
“David! Take a breath. Think of Lara’s strategies.”  
“Fuck Lara! She knows fuck-all.”  
He was pacing up and down the hall, looking for an escape. There was none. Vicky suddenly appeared in front of him, bringing him to a stop. She took his hands.  
“Breathe with me.” She didn’t look at him. Her voice was soft, calm.  
“Vicky!” He tried to shake her off.  
“Breathe with me,” she said and started counting. He took a deep breath, then another one.  
“Vic,” he said again, pulling his hands away. But she kept counting and breathing and stayed with him.  
Later, she sat beside him, two cups of tea on the coffee table in front of them. He’d changed into track pants and a comfortable sweater. Music was quietly playing from his bluetooth speaker.  
“Are you still hormonal?” he asked, wanting to make light of the heaviness in the air.  
She raised her head in a frown.  
“Sorry, bad joke.” He reached for his cup and blew on in. The tea was still too hot to drink. He regularly burnt his tongue trying to drink tea that was too hot. Even now, he could hardly resist the urge for a sip.  
Vicky was still in her dress but she’d taken off her high heels. She was lost in thoughts, probably regretting that she’d ever agreed to this date.  
“You were right,” she said after a long time. She paused, and he wasn’t quite sure what she was talking about. “I lied to you.”  
He almost didn’t want to hear it. Because it would hurt even more. He was calm now and knew that this had just been a bad episode. Not everything was lost because of one episode. But deep down, where he didn’t want to go, he knew that this might be happening to him for the rest of his life. Who would want to be with someone like that?  
“It’s more than hormones or sex. Although tonight….,” she chuckled, “...anything could have happened.”  
Finally, the tea was cool enough to have a sip. He took one, then another one, letting the hot liquid calm him from the inside. A small ritual that grounded him. He waited for her to carry on.  
“I want more from you, from us. But I dare not to hope for it.”  
“Because of my illness?” He understood if she felt that way, but it still hurt that this would be the reason not to hope for a future.  
“No, you dumbass!” She gave him a shove.   
“I don’t know if I can go there again with you because...what if we can’t make it work?” She stopped talking and reached for her cup. For a long time they sat clutching their cups in their hands, lost in their own thoughts.  
“What if the reason for our breakup wasn’t your PTSD, but because we’re not compatible?”  
He didn’t know what to say.  
“I couldn’t go through another break up from you. I just couldn’t. It would kill me.” She nearly cried.  
So there it was. She wanted to be with him. But the fear of making herself vulnerable, of opening herself up to more heartache and another breakup stood in their way.  
It had nothing to do with his PTSD.


End file.
